Sigma Mercenaries 0002: On Protecting And Serving
by CSS Stravag
Summary: NOTICE: Due to the reboot on Sigma Mercenaries 0001, this story segment is discontinued due to obsolescence. The 70-David team was not encountered in the revised version. Left in place until I publish a new Story 0002. (Rated M: Mercenaires, 'Mericans, and tactical action!)


(Sigma Mercenaries, Story 0002: On Protecting And Serving)

Unlike the first story in the series, I won't be dropping a massive amount of foreword here. Not a huge amount to say, the chapter covers the bulk of it.

One thing I want to mention, though. Police are conditioned to run toward danger to save lives. It's what sets them apart from most regular Joe Blow persons. Hence, the action of saving lives here on the Trains is a good motivational point for the LAPD SWAT 70-David team, and the personal reward of it in both monetary and operational nature. More on that will be handled in the second and third chapters.

Of course, their ongoing debate on finance of the matter is hard to ignore. In practice, a lot of major-city police are always looking for a fast way out of the police force that allows them to provide for their families and gets them out of harm's way. A good example would be Eddie Cusack's partner (Detective Dorato, played by the old-school actor Dennis Farino) constantly trying to talk Cusack into some manner of hair-brained business venture that gets both them off the force. To point, Deke even works out some things that he could do with his cut of 18 million bounty offered by the tango they are escorting to federal holding during the SWAT movie. The lure of escaping the crap job of police work is always there, but merc work isn't going to cut it for them — if anything, signing on to Sigma would be worse in the long run than doing SWAT in LA.

Enough with this, onto the gratuitous warnings section!

-x-x-x-

This story will contain a lot of original concepts and interpretations of my other works, as well as historical or established fictional material. This is a multicrossover as well as a setting fusion and even has Alternate Universe tendencies depending on the flow of story. Expect things can and will change from one dimensional parallel iteration to the next.

The primary governments in this story are either historical (ancient civilizations), extant (United States, Russia, similar), or hail from my other stories (Lunar Star League / House Serenity, Multimage Star Empire). Matters will be covered in story or explained as necessary in footnotes or special data sections.

Events, encounters, people, and locations will be randomized in this story, excepting where established by fiction or history. Terrain on the homeworld will be randomized to certain degrees, as will population centers, extant 'governments' (term is used loosely in most cases) and military facilities (What survived the dissolution of organized control). All contract offerings are generated from random selection tables fed into a custom-written program for the purpose. No kittens were or shall be harmed in the preparation of such random events. SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOMED, ESPECIALLY FOR CAMPAIGN CONTRACTS.

_GENERAL DISCLAIMER_: I own no rights to any included material from any other stories. I intend no offense in such use.

_VIOLENCE WARNING_: It is the root of all warfare, for without violence there is no war. Otherwise, it is called 'negotiations', follow? And even I cannot imagine a good military drama with only negotiating, such would be less entertaining than watching paint dry.

_OC WARNING_: This story is OC-centric, and not in the typical fashion. The story is driven mostly by random-generated persons, but you will see a lot of historical and fictional characters come and go during the works to come.

_BAAAAAD LANGUAGE WARNING_: This story revolves around a hard-charging team of SWAT operators from LA and the various people they meets in a really crapsack world and on the Jumper Trains. Expect foul language; there shall be militia, slaves, soldiers, and general dregs, after all. Also expect a shit-ton of suggestiveness, crazy situations, interpretiveness, analysis, and lots and lots of violence. You have been warned.

_DICE WARNING_: Events in this story will be controlled by the dice, and are concrete, true-random results provided by number generation services. These results will change events dynamically and/or modify established plans. After all, there is no mistress more cruel than fate.

_POLITICAL WARNING_: Political concepts and methods may be presented in this story that may conflict with established 'norms'. This is deliberate on the part of the author, to show different and rather sharp viewpoints on these subjects. The views expressed potentially match the views of the author, though are not to be considered holy writ. IF YOU THINK I AM BEING OFFENSIVE, LIGHTEN UP FRANCIS. Or, alternately, if your Political Correctness filter becomes overclogged with cold, hard reality, you are always welcome to find something else to read.

_ANTI-POLITICAL CORRECTNESS WARNING_: In case you missed the last line of the above warning, AT NO TIME will this story be politically correct. Real life is not politically correct, much less 'nice' in some definitions of the word. If you take issue with this, I recommend finding another read.

_MATURE CONTENT WARNING_: This story contains gratuitous references to violence, some nudity, and extensive use of situations that will be considered controversial. This is deliberately part of the narrative, because this is written random and as close to reality as possible. And the real world, last time I checked, is not a nice place.

* * *

><p>(Sigma Mercenaries Chronicles, Story 0002: On Protecting And Serving)<br>(Chapter 01: Train 311, Round 1)

(Year SLR-9063, April 4, 0545 Local)  
>(Day 15 of Campaign)<br>(Train Guard staging room, Base Erlanger, Terra 232)

"All right, guys," 'Hondo' prompted his team. "And girl," he nodded to the one lady in the element. "We ready to do this?"

"I would like to state for the record that I don't fully trust this Hess character," TJ McCabe commented before anyone else could acknowledge ready or not. "Something about him seems off. Way off."

"He's not crazy, if that's what you mean," Deacon Kaye answered the senior team operator.

"You know this how?" Chris Sanchez asked after a sideways glance at Deke.

"Street and I talked to the guy yesterday," Deke said while he was checking over his new weapon, a Benelli M1 shotgun similar to what he was carrying for the LAPD. All six of the team had stowed their weapons and armor in lockup to draw new gear for this new mission. No sense using department resources when their current employer was offering guns and ammo for the current operation. "Helluva nice guy, high-level computer technician and analyst, with a hobby of shooting competition against the local Sheriffs and a mindset straight out of the Revolutionary War."

"Guy's a Minuteman right out of the history books," Street confirmed. "Armed and trained ready for an unorganized militia call-up. When the 311 train landed in his backyard and the first hostages bailed, he didn't think twice before supporting them. He fired six, waited for clear, and geared up to enter and see who else he could rescue. Sheriffs deputized him and sent him in to find the shooter."

"I heard about that," McCabe answered sharply, still nervous about the whole thing. "I'm worried about this Protectorate thing. What's to stop him from going full dictator on us?" McCabe asked the one ringing question on all their minds, though was slightly miffed when he realized they weren't looking at him, but something else in the room behind him.

"You could ask him?" Boxer waved a finger at the space behind McCabe.

McCabe looked over his shoulder, a quick check on his six by only peripheral vision. What he saw was not entirely comforting, but not unsurprising. Hess, Asako (their theoretical division leader), and a third guy the team didn't recognize.

"The proper answer to the standing question is, not much. Technically, my position is not elected until or unless I get a vote of no confidence. A lot can happen between now and that may-never-happen vote," Hess said as he walked past the semi-belligerent SWAT operator and into the Rail Guard ready room center. "What should worry you more than the possible of me going full totalitarian is the amount of persons on this base calling for me to do exactly that. Today, I say 'no' to that, and I will continue saying 'no' to it every time asked, but roughly two-thirds of the Protectorate residents are demanding I take the title 'Emperor' or 'King' or similar." More than the words, the tone of Hess' declaration made it clear that he was disgusted by such noble title and wanted no part of them. All six officers, even McCabe, could sense his disdain for the possibility.

"So why not?" 'Hondo' asked. "Be a sweet job, wouldn't it?"

"I made the mistake of reading a history book once," Hess said wryly as he leaned back against one of the equipment tables. Nobody in the room missed the fact that his significant mass was able to shift the heavy table a bit of distance. "Far more horrific than anything in the 'Jason' movie series. Especially that rather nasty period of time from 1100 to 1800, where one European kingdom would play its population off against another, in bloody and often inconclusive wars. No way in Hell I'm going to reproduce that here."

"Got you there, Sarge," Michael Boxer conceded.

"Yeah," 'Hondo' half-sighed. "TJ?" the Sergeant asked.

"I'm good to go," he answered warily.

"So, here to see us off into the train?" Street asked after a moment of regarding McCabe.

"Kinda-sorta," Hess acknowledged. "Mostly, here to introduce you to your trailer. Alan heads up the Sweepers group, who will go behind you guys and pick up anything loose for salvage purposes, and evacuate any bodies for disposal. Anything you guys come across on your path through the train, and you want to keep it, go for it."

"And how close is this going to get us to getting home? We're not in this for the Protectorate," McCabe asked.

Hess glanced at the semi-angry SWAT Operator but didn't immediately respond.

"100 cars scrapped down should come out to 400,000 c-bills, give or take depending on contents," Alan answered for Sigma One. "It's a million C-bills per gig for the Temporal Psionics to get you home."

"Effectively, by the end of the 311 train, and when we have it scrapped down in a week or so time, you should have enough funds to get home," Hess acknowledged. "If you want to jump immediately once the funds are available, I won't try to stop you, but I would welcome it if you are willing to hold here until we have a full clearing team to take over when you do leave. I am not asking, but I would certainly welcome it."

"Sounds like you're asking to me," Deke answered.

"Call it a job offer," Hess struck a middle ground. "Certainly not obligatory, but not unpaid, either."

"Past the first train, what do we get?" Boxer asked after a moment.

"If you sign on for a duration, your cut is ten percent of everything you clear divided up between the team, and after five thousand train cars cleared, the Protectorate pays your way home. How you spend your cut is entirely up to you, and I'll give you purchasing rights at the Protectorate level for it, in case you want to invest in some oddball exotic gear or wares."

"Okay, if we're doing 5000 cars to get the free ride, that should be in the neighborhood of…" Street made a show of doing the mental math. "Twenty million C-bills raw, so our cut would be two million across the team, plus the free ride. You said the C-bill is worth $3.50 in 2005?"

"$3.50 or in that ballpark," Hess gauged the buying power in question. "So you're talking the raw equivalent of around seven million split six ways, not including anything you salvage on your way through, and that's just on the low-ball figure of five thousand cars or equivalent, maybe two months, high-ball figure of three months work tops."

"Not much of a salesman, giving us all the cards," TJ McCabe commented fairly.

Hess raised an eyebrow in TJ's direction. "Technician, TJ, not a salesman. My dominion is fixing problems, not the selling of problems to others."

"Can you give us a little while to think about it?" Chris Sanchez asked.

"Oh, definitely, wasn't expecting an answer right here and now," Hess backtracked adroitly. "If you want to clear the 311 train and take a week to decide if going further is for you, I have no problem with waiting for an answer."

"It's a hard offer to say 'no' to," Deke answered. "I think we need some time to decide as a team, though."

"By all means," Hess prompted them. "Whenever you're ready to begin clearing, your trailers are waiting for you."

-x-x-x-

(Year SLR-9063, April 4, 0600 Local)  
>(Day 15 of Campaign)<br>(Railhead Undercroft, Base Erlanger, Terra 232)

"This is our trail?" Street asked.

"We're it, sir," a twenty-something with what appeared to be copper-colored hair commented. "Five in behind you to collect and stow material, five outside to manage the ladders for evacuating people."

"Ah, okay, that way you don't have to have a hundred people behind us managing people coming out," Hondo discerned the plan offhand. "This outfit may actually have its ducks in a row," he commented offhand.

"Do we have a QRF?" Street asked.

"The American Paratroopers are on call," Alex commented. "Five minute or less response time. Worst case, we trailers can provide limited support."

Sergeant Harrelson wasn't the only one in his team that flinched at the thought of having these guys as their QRF, but he said nothing.

"Okay, people, let's make this happen. TJ, you're the pointman for this."

"Got it," McCabe answered. "Part of me still can't believe I'm doing this."

"Feeling's mutual," Sanchez said from her position in the stack.

"Caboose is clear," TJ reported after a moment. "Definitely enough blood here to count for a shootout."

"I know it may be a hard thing to accept, but maybe the big guy wasn't shitting us?" Deke asked.

"Maybe," Hondo said as he approached the door, but stopped at a communications panel just short of it. "Oh, perfect. Train intercom. I was worried about that, we can do a call out to forewarn the residents."

"Who does the call-out?" Chris asked.

"Box?" Hondo held the microphone out to the team's heavy hitter.

Michael Boxer hesitated for three seconds before he took the microphone. "Dial it in, Sarge." Hondo tapped a control for 'all call', then pressed the green 'activate' button. After a bare second, the speakers in the rooftop consoles popped. "Attention residents of Train 311, attention, this is Michael Boxer, acting SWAT officer for the Protectorate of Sigma. By arrangement with the Executors of the Star League, this train is to be disassembled and scrapped out. That means everyone has to leave the train."

Boxer paused a moment to let it sink in. After twenty seconds, he resumed the microphone and depressed the PTT switch. "SWAT will be moving through the train to clear out all persons and loose material in the train. Sigma personnel and support services are waiting to help you transition to a new residence off the train. You will not have any personal material confiscated, families will not be broken up, and food, water, and medical supplies will be available for all persons. Please have all personal effects gathered and ready to depart the train with you. Thank you, and God bless."

"That was classic," McCabe said after the system was shut off.

"9.6, 9.7, 9.4 from the Kentucky delegation," Street said. "Definitely rates high on the inspirational factor."

"Yeah, Box, ever think about making a career out of it? I hear the pay is pretty good," Sanchez said.

"I dunno, I was beginning to like my job in LA," Boxer made a show of resisting.

"Welp, let's earn our ride home. Trailers, you ready?" Hondo asked.

"Good to go, sir," Alan answered, at the same time he twitched his right ear at the sound of one of the other trailers arming, safing, and holstering his 1911.

"Go time," Deke said seriously. "I have point."

-x-x-x-

Car 1 (Luggage) (0610)  
><span>Car 2 (Luggage) (0612) (Evac 1 civilian)<span>  
><span>Car 3 (Luggage) (0614) (Evac 13 Charlie Mafia)<span>

Deke nudged the latch on the door to the third car with the muzzle of his shotgun, which caused it to power open. "This is SWAT! We are clearing the train!" He shouted after the door finished opening.

"Come in, come in!" A younger kid answered. "You know the American?"

"The American? We are Americans," TJ McCabe answered as the element entered with their weapons at ease. Hess had given the team a thorough briefing on everything he remembered from the train, and one of those things was that roughly a third of the train's occupants were armed. If the SWAT team took the usual SWAT tactic of going through the train like they owned the place, they could expect to get shot up for it.

Diplomacy was expected to win the day today, and Street figured he had an idea how to make it work. "The Kentuckian that shot the slaver, you mean?" he asked.

"Yeah, that guy! You know where he is?"

"Yeah, he's the commander of the refugee facility and base outside the train," Deke said, surveying the hardware in the room. Three of the persons had sub-machineguns, a worrisome amount of firepower for anyone, two good rifles from WW2, and four shotguns distributed among three who Deke wasn't sure could handle them. Never mind the inordinate amount of pistols and revolvers spread around the group. When Hess said that a lot of kids were armed against the threat of slavers, Deke had scoffed at the warning; seeing it in action, now, he was convinced that he owed Hess an apology.

_And a beer for the advisement on diplomacy_, Deke thought as Sanchez spoke with one of the young girls (age 12 or thereabouts) in Spanish.

"Think this is working a bit better than I envisioned," Boxer commented.

"10-4," Deke acknowledged.

"She says she was living in Spain when Philip the Fourth was on the throne," Sanchez told Hondo. "That puts her alive almost 400 years before us; Philip The Fourth was in during the Thirty Years War, if I remember European history right," Sanchez noted.

"That's definitely different," Hondo answered.

"You want us off the train?" the eldest of the group asked Street. The SEAL-turned-SWAT figured the young man who asked in the area of age of 17 or 18.

"We need to disassemble the train, yes," Street commented.

The kid made a show of deciding it. "Do you know what happened to Sancia?"

"Yeah, she's working with the Kentuckian to help clean up the planet we're on," TJ McCabe answered, still mildly shocked and amused that he was saying something that otherwise absurd in a completely truthful frame of reference.

"And we're allowed in?" One of the kids with the sub-machinegun asked. Deke guessed her age somewhere in the vicinity of 8 or 9, which means if she tried burst-firing the UMP45 she was carrying it was probably going to be an anti-aircraft weapon by the time she got to the third round. Still, he figured the threat of that kind of firepower was more than ample to put an end to any Slaver threats to her person.

"Ground floor, but yeah," Sanchez said. "But there is a minimum education amount. Hess won't employ anyone younger than fourteen, legal requirement."

"Three years," one of the girls wearing soft body armor commented wistfully. "If we jump, do we have to fight?" she asked after a moment.

"No, it's voluntary," Boxer took up that question. "Hell, we're volunteering for Sigma."

"Where to?" the 18-year-old in the group asked.

"I've got it," Hondo said. He reached up and hit his pressure toggle switch for the radios. "Trailer, 70-David, open up the loading door on the third Luggage car, please. 13 coming out."

"70-David, Trailer, roger that," the leader of the ladder subsection answered. After a few moments, the door unlatched and swung open. "Make sure you've got all your personal gear, kids," the ladder lead said. "If it stays on the train, it gets scrapped out."

"We're good, we travel light," one of the ladies answered before she stepped through the door.

"Down the walkway and up those stairs, you'll be met by a Ranger at the top. He'll see you to a temporary bunk."

Car 4 (Luggage) (0620)  
><span>Car 5 (Luggage) (0623) (Evac 3 Charlie Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 6 (Luggage) (0626)<span>  
><span>Car 7 (Luggage) (0629)<span>  
><span>Car 8 (Luggage) (0632)<span>  
><span>Car 9 (Luggage) (0635)<span>  
><span>Car 10 (Luggage) (0638)<span>

"I'm trying to think here. What jobs earn 2 million in a couple months?" Deke asked as the rest of the team stacked on the door to car 10.

"Not many," Sanchez answered.

"Baseball players for the major leagues, the best ones?" Boxer asked.

"No thanks, not interested in steroids," Deke put that one to rest.

"Actors make several million a gig, and those usually run 6 to 8 or so," Hondo pointed out.

"I work for a living, what makes you think I could make it as an overemotional silver-screen prostitute?" Deke asked fairly.

"Doesn't look like you have the legs for it, either," TJ semi-agreed with his partner.

"Corporate bosses make some big bucks for not much," Sanchez fronted.

"You need a killer business idea for that...wait a minute," Deke said. "We're working on clearing the Trains so the trailers can salvage the stuff."

"That's it!" Boxer said. "We could run an export-import clearinghouse for trans-dimensional material sales."

"Three problems with that thought," McCabe pointed out. "First, we need to get home. Second, we need to convince our boss and the government at large that we're not raving lunatics for this story. Third, we need to set up transport and regulation for it to work."

"We can make it happen," Deke said. "One, Sigma One will pay our way home if we put out the minimum effort for it. Two, It's not crazy if we walk in with hard evidence of it. Video, equipment, gear, materials, hell, if we could get someone to come along with us even temporarily, that would do the job. Three, once we're home and safe, we see if we can put up a Hyperpulse Generator and get into business for ourselves. Sound good?"

"Deke, just trip the door," Sanchez half-moaned.

"Right." Officer Kaye used the magazine extension tube on his shotgun to trip the latch, which caused the door to kick open automatically.

As soon as the door passed halfway open, Deke entered and went right, followed close by Sanchez who went left of the door opening. As soon as the first two were in, Hondo and Street entered and began their slow movement down the baggage lanes, clearing the room as they went. Two-thirds down the sparse baggage, he found someone sitting on the base of one of the luggage racks, resting against a pile of suitcases. "Got an occupant!"

"Sanchez, need you up front!" Street said.

"Oh geez, her arm," Sanchez said. "Can you move, honey?" The question elicited no response.

"Trailers, 70-David, need medevac for one child, female elven, broken arm, lacerations, and appears to be birdshot wounds," Hondo reported.

"Trailers will evacuate subject to medical ward in the administrative building," Alex reported.

"Who did this to you, kid?" Street asked as he kneeled down next to her.

"Deltas, forward of here," the child replied weakly.

The side door to the car slid open for access. "Sergeant, where is she?" one of the ladder crew asked.

"In here, far side," Hondo said. When the Sergeant looked out the door through the racks, he noticed that one of the Rangers had come in for escort as well, Thompson machine gun and all.

"We'll get you taken care of, kid," Alex said as he lifted the mostly unresponsive child off the luggage rack and laid her down on a stretcher.

"And this is why Hess said this train would be Hell," McCabe said. "Beginning to believe he wasn't bullshitting us."

"You're just not going to give the Kentucky fat boy any credit, will you?" Boxer asked a bit sharply.

"There's a lot wrong with the guy," McCabe said.

"There's also a lot right with the guy," Hondo said. "Give 'em a chance, TJ. He might surprise us all."

Car 11 (Luggage) (0643)  
><span>Car 12 (Luggage) (0646)<span>

After the door passed halfway, The clearing team was already accosted by occupants. "Who goes there?" A lady shouted.

"Sigma SWAT! We're here to evacuate the train!" Boxer shouted.

"Can I speak to one of you face to face? I'm not sure I trust this," the lady said.

"Volunteers?" Hondo asked.

"I've got this," McCabe said. He lowered the G36 he was carrying to sling ready, then straightened up and stepped in.

Finding the defensive party was simple — concealed in the luggage, finding the one lady with a pistol was dead simple for McCabe. He silently expected a stranger story than just a lady questioning who had entered, and once he had an idea what he was looking at, TJ was not disappointed. "You don't look like the American," she prompted, her pistol properly centered on his chest.

"No, if you're referring to the big guy in green, I'm not him. I am a subcontractor for his organization. Here," and TJ turned his sleeve to the front enough that the armpatch was visible to her. "Los Angeles Police SWAT team. We're working for Sigma to earn our way home, and we're getting everyone off the train so we can scrap it down."

"Earn your way home?" she asked warily.

"Yeah, it's a million c-bills to have a Temporal Psionic find our home dimension, so we have to earn the cash on commission," McCabe said with some resignation to voice. Behind her rather prominent arse, he noticed a hint of movement, and it didn't take him long to realize what. "No wonder you're so defensive. You're protecting someone."

"Slavers are still at work here in the train, they're convinced it is going to get moving any minute now," she said, not moving her pistol a whit.

"Not possible," TJ answered. "The engine control systems have been deprogrammed. It's impossible to move this train without Executor Cyrene Curone's control box."

"Huh?" That declaration caused the lady to shift her aimpoint. "An Executor is involved?"

"Yeah, The Protectorate of Sigma is under orders to strip down and clear these trains. We go through and clear the people, our trailers go through and clear any leftover material, then a chop crew finishes up by disassembling the train cars."

"Okay," she said as she lowered her pistol, safed it and slipped it into her waistband. "If the train is going to be disassembled, where do we go?"

"We're doing refugee relocation outside the base command center. The guys outside will get you some bunk space, and we go from there. Okay?"

"Understood. Watch out for the Slavers, they're still busy at work," she said as she led the young girl toward the side door to the car. TJ could tell by looking at her hair and eyes, the little girl was a Phoenix in human form.

McCabe toggled his radio setup. "Trailers, car 12, two coming out, open exterior door please."

"Stand by," Alex said over the radio.

Car 13 (Luggage) (0651)  
><span>Car 14 (Luggage) (0654)<span>  
><span>Car 15 (Luggage) (0657)<span>

"Who's there?" a lady asked from the far side of the door.

"Sigma SWAT, we're here to evacuate the train," Deke half-shouted in response.

"Sigma? The American's team? Come on in, come on in!" an older teen boy said. "Damn am I glad to see you guys're clearing the train finally. The natives are getting restless up ahead."

"That bad?" Hondo asked as he looked over the group in the car. Most of the occupants were under 12, though their front-'man' in this case was probably thirteen and certainly no stranger to carrying a Bushmaster SBR. He wasn't the only one armed with an automatic weapon, though Hondo figured the kid with the Mac-10 would have been hard-pressed to keep it on target past the fourth round. There was only one occupant in the room that could have qualified for voting age or legal to buy beer, and much as Hondo expected, McCabe already had eyes on.

"Hell yes sir! What's left of the Charlies and Bravos in the train have counted what appears to be four slavers that concealed themselves when the American and the Rangers went by. Word is, they've taken over a bath car up by Car 70, and are warehousing their hostages there for when the train resumes jumping," the kid said.

"Damn, things are just getting better and better," Boxer grumped.

"Why all this so fast?" Street asked, indirectly questioning the kids' motives.

"Simple. The American fulfilled his end of an unwritten bargain. He stopped the train, he saved a shit-ton of slaver hostages, and he capped or knifed the active slavers. I said I'd follow him to the gates of Hell if he did less than that, actually, so I intend to follow through with bonus points," the teen said. "Toni, call 'em up," the guy said.

"Got it." the eldest of the teen ladies brought a radio up to her face. "Charlie units, this is Charlie 9, confirm team clearing the train is uniformed Los Angeles SWAT working with Sigma. Hold positions, defend train occupants, and prepare anything you know about the Slavers for the SWAT team moving forward."

"Charlie 9 from Charlie 20, please advise the Sigma SWAT group that the Bravo Teams have been informed as well, Bravo 11 is relaying the word around by their own radio network. We can isolate and contain the slavers as much as possible, but we're not really equipped or trained to take them down. Same with the Bravos."

"You heard that?" Toni asked.

"Yeah," Street said. "This job is getting better by the minute."

"Since we're getting off the train, here," Toni hefted her radio again and depressed the talk switch. "Attention Charlies, this is Charlie 9. I am handing my radio over to Sigma SWAT at this time. Charlie 9 is now evacuating the train. See you guys on the outside!"

"Watch your ass, Toni! And say 'hi' to Sancia for me!" Charlie 20 said over the radio as Toni handed it to Sanchez.

"Sigma, this is Charlie 12, relay from Bravo 7 indicates Slaver presence in car 71, might be their hostage warehouse. We don't want to remain in the area due to armed guard presence, over," the young teen on the far end of the radio in Charlie 12 reported.

"Charlie 12, Sigma, Chris Sanchez speaking. Do not remain in area at risk to yourselves, repeat, do not remain in area. We'll clear through as we approach. Hunker down in a defensive position, we'll come to you for extraction."

Hondo hit his radio toggle. "Trailers, SWAT, got 14 coming out."

Car 16 (Luggage) (0705) (Evacuated 8 Alpha Mafia, 1 Civilian)  
><span>Car 17 (Luggage) (0708) (Evacuated 1 Civilian)<span>  
><span>Car 18 (Luggage) (0711)<span>  
><span>Car 19 (Luggage) (0714)<span>  
><span>Car 20 (Luggage) (0717) (Evacuated 3 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 21 (Luggage) (0720)<span>  
><span>Car 22 (Luggage) (0723)<span>  
><span>Car 23 (Luggage) (0726)<span>  
><span>Car 24 (Luggage) (0729) (evacuated 4 Bravo Mafia, 15 Charlie Mafia)<span>

" _Sweet Home Alabama, where the skies are so blue _," was the first thing Street heard once the second door opened to this car.

"That's not something I expected to hear on this train," Hondo said as the team pushed into the room. It wasn't as surprising to him to see a group of mixed gang colors waving him in. It didn't even really bother Hondo so much that he was walking into a room with 9 heavily-armed gang members for the purpose of huddling around a radio playing classic rock on a train that jumped between dimensions that was parked under a military base that now belonged to an American Militiaman after he shanghaied it from a feckless interdimensional oligarchy. "Good God almighty, this is one strange detail I'm on," Hondo said with a smile borne of optimism, stress, and the sheer insanity of his new job.

"That must make you the SWAT team that Sigma is running through the train," the eldest of the four ladies in the room said.

"That's us," Sanchez said.

"So, what's the word? Classic rock?" Street asked.

"Remembering my days in 80s America," the eldest lady said. "We don't have anything to report — no slavers or hostile groups have been through here since the American chased that one wounded one by us."

"Planning on going home?" Deke asked the rather voluptuous Bravo Mafiosi with the radio.

"Hell no, son," she answered with a smile. "After reading what the Star League has recorded of American History, I think I'll stay here, thank you very much. The future isn't what it used to be, that's for sure."

"That's one way to put it," Boxer pointed out.

"Anyway, we heard what is going on out there," she wagged the antenna of her radio at Sanchez and her similar radio from the Charlies, "so we're ready to walk out. You need anything from us?"

"Nope, we're good," Hondo reported. "Trailers, car 24, have 19 to come out."

"Roger that, opening door now," Alan reported.

"Might see you later, big guy," the lady said to Deke on the way out the door.

"Don't think my wife would like that," Deke said to nobody in particular after she was out of earshot.

Car 25 (Luggage) (0734)  
><span>Car 26 (Luggage) (0737)<span>  
><span>Car 27 (Luggage) (0740) (Evacuated 4 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 28 (Luggage) (0743) (Evacuated 6 Charlie Mafia, 4 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 29 (Luggage) (0746) (Evacuated 3 Bravo Mafia, 10 Charlie Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 30 (Luggage) (0749) (Evacuated 1 Civilian)<span>  
><span>Car 31 (Luggage) (0752)<span>  
><span>Car 32 (Luggage) (0755) (Evacuated 2 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 33 (Luggage) (0758) (Evacuated 1 Civilian)<span>  
><span>Car 34 (Luggage) (0801)<span>  
><span>Car 35 (Luggage) (0804)<span>

"Clear left," Sanchez reported.

"Clear right," Street reported.

"Not much in this car at all," Hondo reported. The usual luggage racks were empty, no hanging bags, nothing of the sort. Only one thing resided in the room, a mil-spec large plastic container on the port side of the car, not too dissimilar from the Pelican cases used by the military and LEO groups.

"Wonder what's in the box," Deke said to nobody in particular as he looked it up and down.

"One way to find out," TJ said as he picked through his utility pouch for —

"When did you pick one of those up?"

"I 'borrowed' it from a mechanic," TJ said as he disabled the safety and activated the laser pen torch. Once the laser achieved proper heat and focus, burning off the entire container lock plates was a simple task, four locks in roughly a minute.

"That's slick, I think we need to buy some of those to take home with us," Hondo suggested.

"Sure as hell, everyone in the department will want several," Street said.

TJ yanked the partially-melted fourth lock out of place and lifted up on the lid of the low container. "Whoa, shit," he gaped.

Deke reached into the low-rise container and lifted one of the tags on the goods up. "Ceramex Dragon Scale Five body armor," he said. "This is the same stuff that one crazy wench was wearing that Hess had to bayonet!"

"That's tough stuff," Sanchez said.

"Yeah, no doubt, Hess said he dumped half a magazine into her and she was still standing," Boxer said.

"And these things are light," Deke said after he lifted one of the armor sets off the rack and hefted it. "Half, maybe as low as a third of the weight of our Plate Carriers with IV-rated plates."

"Think we can refit, Sarge?" Street asked.

"Hold on one moment." Hondo toggled his radio. "Command, 70-David, got a technical question about body armor," Hondo asked by radio.

"70-David, Command, send your question," the operator answered.

"Does Dragon Scale Five stop 5.56 rounds?" Hondo asked.

"Stand by, not really sure 70-David," the Operator answered. Thirty seconds later: "70-David, product sheet for Dragon Scale Five shows level of protection equal to Level IV trauma plates, with greater resistance to ceramic breakdown in the individual armor scales. Armor is certified to take an entire magazine of M-16 rounds at close range without failing."

"Oh hell yes, looks like we're going to re-armor up. Street, Sanchez, Deke, cover the door while the rest of us swap out."

"70-David, Sigma One, go ahead and leave your plate carriers by the armor box, we will circulate them back into inventory unless your team wants to lay claim to them."

"Negative, we'll release the plate carriers, but we may end up purchasing the rest of this Dragon Scale off you for the D Platoon (1) back home," Hondo said.

"Acknowledged, 70-David, I think we can cut a deal at that time. Good hunting, Sigma One is out."

Car 36 (Luggage) (0827) (Evacuated 1 civilian)  
><span>Car 37 (Luggage) (0830)<span>  
><span>Car 38 (Luggage) (0833) (Evacuated 2 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 39 (Luggage) (0836) (Evacuated 3 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 40 (Luggage) (0839) (Evacuated 5 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 41 (Seats, 1 Level) (0841)<span>  
><span>Car 42 (Seats, 2 Level) (0845)<span>  
><span>Car 43 (Seats, 2 Level) (0849)<span>  
><span>Car 44 (Seats, 2 Level) (0853) (Evacuated 4 Charlie Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 45 (Seats, 2 Level) (0857)<span>

"Oh Jesus," Deke gaped as the doors opened to an utterly putrid scent.

"Masks on, quick!" Street said. He was not the first to grab for it, Deke had his on first.

"What the hell is that smell?" Sanchez asked.

"Dead bodies," Street said. "They've been in there for a while."

"Roger that," Sergeant Harrelson said. "Command, 70-David, car 45 is contaminated, multiple dead bodies at this location."

"70-David, Command, roger your report. Trailers will be notified to prepare for transport. Can you get a count?"

"Standby, we're making entry now," Hondo reported. "Lead off, Deke, and don't step on them or their dead body funk, follow?"

"I hear that," Officer Kaye commented.

"Command, 70-David, inquiry for Sigma One, what happened here in 45?" Hondo asked after a moment.

"70-David, Sigma One, that was a group of seven Alpha Mafia that decided they didn't want us walking through. No defiance, no demand for satisfaction, the first thing they did was go for guns and start shooting."

"That's nuts," Deke said.

"God, this smells even through the NBC masks!" Boxer complained.

"Command, 71-David, I show seven bodies at this location, all well on their way to becoming compost. Recommend the cleanup crew do this with hazmat A-suits, it's pretty bad," Street recommended.

"71-David, Command, roger that, we should have the gear in twenty."

"Watch your step, guys. We need to go over the seats here to avoid stepping in it," TJ McCabe recommended, pointing to the right-side seats.

"Yeah, I agree," Sanchez said.

Car 46 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0900)  
><span>Car 47 (Baths, Gender-Split) (0902)<span>  
><span>Car 48 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0905)<span>  
><span>Car 49 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0908)<span>  
><span>Car 50 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0911)<span>  
><span>Car 51 (Dining Car) (0913)<span>  
><span>Car 52 (Seats, 2 Level) (0915)<span>  
><span>Car 53 (Seats, 2 Level) (0917)<span>  
><span>Car 54 (Seats, 2 Level) (0919)<span>  
><span>Car 55 (Seats, 2 Level) (0921)<span>  
><span>Car 56 (Seats. 1 Level) (0923)<span>  
><span>Car 57 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0925) (Evacuated 6 Bravo Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 58 (Baths, Gender-Split) (0927)<span>  
><span>Car 59 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 Rooms) (0929) (Evacuated 20 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 60 (Baths, Gender-Split) (0931)<span>

"Aww shit, here we go again," Boxer complained.

"Masks on," Hondo ordered.

"Do we have to check the men's room?" Sanchez asked in a partial whine. It was obvious that the dead body smell was coming from there, given the bloody boot-print that matched the work boots Hess wore.

"Just briefly, we're not hanging around," Hondo said. "Volunteers?"

"I'm on it," Street said.

"I've got your six," Deacon Kaye stacked on Street to enter the bathroom. Rather than saying anything audibly, Deke reached his left hand up to Street's right shoulder and gave it a squeeze, which was a signal to begin the movement.

Street came around the corner to the left, took the short hallway to the far end, then came right into the main room. Street started by going right, clearing the near-side right corner, while Deke entered immediately and cleared the left-side near corner. The two SWAT operators both swept inward from there, until they both had swept three corners and their fields of fire were overlapping. Nothing was alive or moving in the room, which they expected.

The toilet stalls were all flapped open enough that a good inspection ensured they were clear. The shower stalls (6) were another story entirely, with only one open and one of the closed stalls appeared to have legs in it. Deke moved in close and opened the shower stalls one at a time, with Street standing off about ten feet to provide overwatch and secondary fire if needed. Four stalls came up clear, the fifth stall came up… strange.

"Okay, what the hell was this supposed to be?" Deke asked.

"I don't get it," Street said. "Was he trying to hide and got shot?"

"It's recent, past day or two tops, not like those over there," Deke judged.

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to drill this guy, I'm counting twelve, fourteen holes?" Street said, looking at the body through his ACOG rifle sight.

"Don't think he was making the other train residents happy," Deke concluded.

"Well, it's a mystery that I'm not in a hurry to ask about, this isn't a good neighborhood to begin with," Street said.

"Command, 75-David, show six bodies in car 60 male bathroom section. One of them is recent, not part of the incident that Sigma One was involved in."

"75-David, Command, copy all. I'll forward the information to Sigma, but be advised he's already shaking his head about it."

"75-David, Sigma One, I doubt you'll get a straight answer as to what is going on with that last kill unless someone walks up to you and claims it," Hess said.

"75-David, White Light," Executor Cyrene prompted him. "Can you identify any upper arm tattoos on the last tango? Slaver Guild operators commonly have a heart and chains tattoo on one or both biceps."

"Stand by," Deke said. He used a bath brush from one of the other shower stalls to nudge the dead guy over to see the right arm. "White Light, 75-David, would that artwork be a large red heart wrapped with three strands of chains?"

"Confirmed," Cyrene said. "The hearts and chains are their personal count. Heart is 200, each chain is an extra 200. This punk is responsible for over 800 but not up to 1000 slave captures."

"Well, if he's dead, good riddance," Sanchez said.

"All right, Deke, Street, bring it in. We'll let the poor Trailers clean this one up."

Car 61 (House Car, 2 level) (0935) (Evacuated 4 Bravo Mafia)  
><span>Car 62 (Lounge Car) (0937) (Evacuated 9 Delta Mafia)<span>

Deke and McCabe made entry first of the team, though once they got inside it was fairly obvious that this was not a threat area, despite being occupied.

"Hey! It's the SWAT guys! Rock on!" a big guy sitting at the bar half-shouted, raising a beer in salute to the team.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" the guy at the pool table said before he broke a 9-ball stack.

"Having fun in the dead body car back there," Deke said.

"Yeah, that's a nice present that the fat-boy American left us. Five dead bodies stinkin' up the fun house," the sole lady of the group in the lounge said. "Of course, for two dead Slavers, it's a price we'd gladly tolerate."

"Heard the fat guy is clearin' the train out. What's the story?" an early-twenties guy asked from behind the bar.

"Executors are paying him to strip the trains down, and Sigma gets to keep the components, materials, and contents that aren't claimed," Hondo said as his team dispersed into the lounge, reasonably at ease that nothing was about to go wrong.

"That's… wow," the one lady said. Sanchez guessed her age at mid-twenties, but she was easily a small thing and almost not big enough to properly fit into the flak vest she was wearing.

"And that means us as well, right?" the alternate player at the pool table said. "If we go, what's in it for us? I kinda like it here."

"Well, you're not in the train when they start disassembling it car by car, so there's a plus," Hondo said as he leaned back against the wall next to the pool table. "There's housing waiting in the base above this railhead, and Sigma is starting to take off — if you're in the right position with the right idea, you could make a pretty good business venture up top."

"Or you could join up, become a local Infantryman or a mercenary," Deke pointed out.

"You mean like the American? That dude was scary," an older guy wearing light body armor said. "He gunned down three, four Slavers and a helluva lot of Mafia on the way through here."

"Something like that," Deke said. He flexed and arched his back to stretch it out, then rotated his shoulders to resettle his new body armor. "He's damn good for a civilian — he's part of the Unorganized Militia on his homeworld. If he lost some weight and took the oath, I'd let him watch my back," Deke said.

"And now he's building a mercenary unit? Where do I sign up?" the guy substituting for a bartender asked. "Hell, I'll mop floors for the dude if it pays well enough."

"Head out, grab a bunk topside in the barracks, and pay a visit to the recruiting station. They'll get you into training," Street guessed the procedure (not incorrectly).

Car 63 (Seats, 2 Level) (0945) (Evacuated 5 Alpha Mafia)  
><span>Car 64 (Seats, 1 Level) (0947) (Evacuated 4 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 65 (Seats, 1 Level) (0949)<span>  
><span>Car 66 (Seats, 2 Level) (0953) (Evacuated 4 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 67 (Seats, 2 Level) (0957)<span>  
><span>Car 68 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 room) (1000) (Evacuated 23 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 69 (Baths, Gender-Split) (1002)<span>  
><span>Car 70 (Single Sleeper Car, 15 rooms) (1005)<span>  
><span>Car 71 (Baths, Gender-Split) (1007)<span>

"70-David, Command, be advised that we have clear camera access to the bathrooms in the next car. Confirm three Slavers visible, one in a toilet stall, five hostages. Female side is clear, hallway is clear."

"70-David copies," Hondo said. "All right, Deke, do it."

"Breaching," Deke answered as he toggled the door latch.

Deke immediately entered with Sanchez on his rear, and with it the corners were cleared immediately. The remainder of the team moved forward and into the room to cover the two bathrooms, with the entry team moving up to take over the entry detail on the bathroom where the hostages would be.

Hondo gave the signal for Deke and Sanchez to enter, to which Hondo and Street followed. The first entry pair moved into the short access corridor to the bathroom, then stopped at the corner to 'wand' the room for threats. The Fiber-Optic Wand allowed them to see around the corner with an absolute minimum of fuss and exposure, and get good positional intelligence without giving away their position.

After he put the wand away, Deke gave the hand signal for four threats (apparently the last one was off the can) and signaled five hostages. He also signaled no threat left, which means that once cleared left, the troops on that side would refocus right to double down on any action there. Once he was standing and readied, Deke took his position and readied for entry. Sanchez put her left hand on his shoulder, made sure her UMP45 was good to go, and gave Deke the squeeze to get moving.

Rather than moving immediately, Deke pulled a Flashbang grenade, slowly and silently pulled the pin, then heaved it around the doorframe and roughly into the center of the room.

"SHI — " **WRAAM**. The SWAT operators were used to Flashbangs, the enemy not so much. The bright flash was enough to bleed through their clenched shut eyelids, but excellent hearing protection earmuffs with radio and microphone prevented any kind of stun from the aural abuse. Before the echoes faded, Deke was already on the move inside.

Kaye came around the corner and immediately went right, his shotgun up and searching for the targets that were now slightly out of position. One slaver, male, forties, AK rifle up but disoriented. Deke hammered him in the left shoulder with a round of 12-gauge military buckshot from seven feet away, not enough distance for the shot to spread out larger than the size of a fist. The shot blew through his shoulder and into his upper chest, which was easily ample to drop him solid.

Sanchez had started by going left, though with the geometry of the room there was no real left, the doorway was along the left wall. She moved forward and into the room along the left wall, and as she swept her weapon left to right she came across the first tango in a toilet stall. He had been partially shielded from the blast, so he was actually trying to bring a pistol on target. Sanchez dropped four rounds into his chest from fifteen feet away, which was enough to ensure he would not be leaving that toilet stall.

Hondo was third into the room, and with Sanchez having cleared the left to the middle of the toilet stalls, he went forward into the room with his own UMP45 up. The number three tango had a clear set of body armor on, so he aimed high and loosed a single round into the neck and head of this enemy from five yards. His shot was the perfect Sniper's Triangle shot — the single round blitzed through the nose, through the bottom of the brain, and into the brainstem of the enemy, which caused the enemy to lose all muscular control and simply collapse in on herself. No 'trigger from the grave' incident was possible with such a hit, and she was clinically dead before the body hit the floor.

Street joined the other three inside and followed in behind Deke, who had centered on the number four enemy. She had been closest to the grenade when it went off, which on reaction she had stumbled back into the wall adjacent to the female bathroom. Her Steyr TMP was on the ground, unfired, and now she was armed only with a pistol on her chest rig and against the wall with four SWAT officers arrayed against her.

"Hands up! Get your hands up!" Hondo shouted.

"Hands up! Don't move!" Deke shouted.

"Get your hands up, punk!" Sanchez shouted.

Wisely, faced with four weapon lights aimed at her, the fourth Slaver did not go for the chest-holstered pistol. She raised her hands timidly. "I am Joanna Fogold, Journeyman 4th Rank of the Slavers Guild. There will be a ransom for my release to the Guild," she declared, even with her hands raised.

"Yeah, I'm sure there will be," Hondo answered. "Street, secure and evacuate."

"Yes sir," Jim said as he safed and let hang his G36, then drew his pistol. "Turn around, hands against the wall, do not move," he said with the pistol aimed at her upper chest. She complied fast enough, and Street removed her secondary weapons (two knives, her pistol, and a grenade).

"You know, if you hold me or do anything to me, your organization will bleed," the tango said.

"Yeah, sure, hope your force has its ducks in a row, honey," Sanchez said while Street cuffed her. "You're not playing against mafia. We're on a whole new level, and our CO is a very ruthless sunzabitch. I don't think you're ready for where this is about to go, girl." Sanchez tripped her radio. "Command, 73-David, one suspect — err, enemy — in custody, five hostages rescued. We are extracting to next room now."

Car 72 (House Car, 1 Level) (1015)  
><span>Car 73 (Dining Car) (1019) (Evacuated 12 Civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 74 (Seats, 2 Levels) (1023)<span>

"So, what are we thinking here? Around 10 grand in train clearing or so?" Boxer asked as he moved forward into the train car. In the same fashion that Hess had trained the other persons of his team, the first two in the room took positions at the rear seats, aiming down the length of the car to catch anyone in the car that was trying to run an ambush.

"So that would be a free ride home plus a little over two million per person," TJ said. "Six months and we can retire happy."

"It won't be easy, remember the Kentuckian mostly cleared this one out already."

"He didn't clear enough," Street said. "I see three backs trying to hide below the seat edges! C'mon up!"

"GUN!" TJ shouted as the first of not three but nine separate persons bolted to standing. The suspect had the initiative in this case, two shots from a 1911 that completely missed the mark when fired at Street.

Street was first down to a knee and on target against the shooter, with a three-round burst to the torso from his G36 to put the enemy down fast. Given the amount of moving enemies, he had difficulty picking out the worst threats among them but a guy with a black-parkerized shotgun was close enough so his second burst went there.

Jim Street's fast reaction to threats earned him a fast response, four rounds rapid from a M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. All four rounds were centered on his Dragon Scale Five body armor, rendering them harmless but painful to the former Navy SEAL. The SAW gunner's backup fired on TJ twice, and competently managed to put both rounds on target with a Ruger GP100, but failed to kill in the same fashion as Street was saved.

"Bang out!" Boxer shouted as he hefted a flashbang down the car toward the enemy lines. One of the Alpha Mafia tried firing on him in retaliation, but two shots from his Glock 20 went high before the flashbang detonated.

After the flash stopped, the entire team went live and dropped the major threats. Hondo and Sanchez both put five rounds apiece of .45ACP into the chest and neck of the SAW gunner, which rendered him clinically dead before his body hit the ground. Street fired leftward, two bursts into two greenhorn Mafiosi, one with body armor (which did not stop the 5.56 rounds in the slightest) and one without but carrying a pump shotgun. Boxer and Deke both had a piece of a guy who was carrying a Bernelli pump shotgun, leaving only two very disoriented tangos in the car.

"Suspect! Drop your weapon!" McCabe shouted as he advanced with Hondo aiming down on the other enemy.

"Drop that damn gun, boy!" Hondo shouted at the teenager with the Glock product that had fired on but failed to hit Boxer.

"Sanchez! Deploy CS and render compliant!" Boxer shouted.

"One tear gas grenade, coming up!" Sanchez shouted in an exaggerated fashion. When she let her UMP45 swing to pull a CS canister, the punk obviously could tell what was about to happen. As soon as she yanked the pin from the gas canister, both suspects decided it was done and dropped aside their weapons.

"Sanchez, hold CS," Hondo ordered. "Hands up, turn to face the windows," Hondo ordered. "Deke, Boxer, close up."

"Moving now, boss," Deke said immediately.

"Who the hell are you guys?" the teen asked while Hondo stripped him of his secondary weapon (a Walther P22).

"Sigma SWAT," Hondo answered.

"Someone's getting some jail time for shooting at the SWAT team," Street said.

"Jail. Yay. At least we're not at hazard from the Slavers," the older teen Mafiosi of the two said. "Why are you evicting us from the Train?"

"Star League Executors have contracted Sigma to clear the train," Sanchez answered. "Do we take 'em back to the last exit, or take 'em forward?" Sanchez asked.

"One better," Deke said as he pulled an extra pair of cuffs. "We'll cuff 'em to the seat poles and let the trailers move 'em out here in a few."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Street said. He provided the extra cuffs for securing the 19-year-old to a chair. "Trailer, 71-David, be advised car 74 has five dead, two captured and cuffed. No major salvage to retain from the deceased, over."

"71-David, Trailers, copy last. We'll find the tangos a dank brig cell so they can think long time about their personal issues."

Street stopped at the guy who managed to land some hits on him, and picked up the M249 SAW. "Better in our hands than the salvage pile."

Car 75 (Seats, 1 Level) (1027)  
><span>Car 76 (Seats, 2 Level) (1029)<span>  
><span>Car 77 (Seats, 2 Level) (1031)<span>  
><span>Car 78 (Seats, 2 Level) (1033)<span>  
><span>Car 79 (Single Sleeper Car, 15 rooms) (1035)<span>  
><span>Car 80 (Baths, Gender-Split) (1037) (Evacuated 4 civilians, 5 Bravo Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 81 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 rooms) (1040) (Evacuated 5 civilians, 2 Bravo Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 82 (Baths, Gender-Split) (1042) (Evacuated 2 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 83 (House, 2 Level) (1046) (Evacuated 1 Civilian)<span>  
><span>Car 84 (Lounge Car) (1048)<span>  
><span>Car 85 (Seats, 2 Level) (1050)<span>  
><span>Car 86 (Seats, 1 Level) (1052) (Evacuated 5 Delta Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 87 (Seats, 1 Level) (1054)<span>  
><span>Car 88 (Seats, 1 Level) (1056)<span>  
><span>Car 89 (Seats, 1 Level) (1058)<span>  
><span>Car 90 (Single Sleeper Car, 15 rooms) (1100) (Evacuated 1 Civilian, 10 Bravo Mafia)<span>

"I got ho home," someone ahead of the door into the sleeper car half-shouted, though it was very much obvious she was exhausted by her tone of voice. "I got NO HOME! Or is it 'ho' home?"

"Street, check it," Hondo ordered after he heard some kind of banging noise in the hallway ahead.

Street moved forward to the corner of the sleepers, and slowly creeped around the corner with his M249 leading the way. Once into position where he had line of sight and line of fire down the hallway, the matter at hand became infinitely clear.

"I gots no home!" a lady shouted down the hall, then took several uncoordinated swings at one of the sleeper car doors with what appeared to be a piece of trim plate from the wall. From what Street could tell, she was wearing a tube top that was roughly two sizes too tight, a mini skirt, and that was it. When she turned profile-on to the SWAT officer, he could see the top of a vodka bottle sticking up from her cleavage in the brief calm before she took a couple more swings at a different door.

"What is going on?" Deke asked in a whisper. Street waved him silent.

"I GOT NO HOME!" She shouted in a near-bipolar rage before she started swinging with what little might she had left at a wall. The trim piece she was using broke on the fourth impact, the splintered piece bounced back and struck her in the forehead, which chain of events caused her to stumble back into the wall and slide down it to sitting cross-legged.

"On me," Street waved the team forward. The doors to the rooms were closed, though two of the glass windows in the doors had been busted out by this lady's drunken rampage with a trim piece.

"Huh?" She asked Street blearily. "Who th'fuck're you?"

"Sigma SWAT," Street said as he approached the drunkard lady. Once at her side, he let the M249 hang and reached down to haul her up to standing.

"SWAT? Like, police SWAT?" she asked, still obviously drunk. Even while Street was pulling her up to standing, she brazenly reached into her tube-top and drew out the bottle of vodka.

"Uh-uh, honey," Deke said as he reached for the bottle before she could uncap it.

"Hey! That's mine! I won't lose another one to interlopers!"

"Not yours any more, lady," Deke said as he slid open the sleeper room door and chucked the vodka bottle out the open window. "Bottle's headed south."

"No fun!" she half-stammered as Street struggled to balance her.

"Street, zip-tie her," Hondo said. "Trailers, 70-David, have an immediate evac needed, car 90, room 9. One lady, mostly undressed, very drunk. Need her taken up to medbay for a check, she may have alcohol poisoning."

"70-David, Trailers, roger that. I have a team crawling under the train carriage now to meet you on the opposite side."

"Sergeant Harrelson!" one of the trailers shouted from outside. "We're ready!"

"Get that ladder inside, give me about five feet of ladder on the inside," Hondo said. "Deke, get her on the bed in there," he said.

"What are you doing? Where am I going?" she asked in a clearly drunken stupor.

"You're going to see a doctor, and after that you'll have a bed and proper food," Street said consolingly. He figured that would be the procedure, but he wasn't 100 percent sure on the specifics.

With Deke and the lady in place, the rescue ladder was slowly pushed into the room until there was about two meters of ladder inside. "All right, lady, time to head out. Here."

"You sure you don't wanna spend the night with me, big guy?" Deacon Kaye didn't respond, he simply picked her up in a one-person carry, then laid her out on the ladder in the same fashion one would use a stretcher. Deke figured she might try to resist if she went out feet first, so he made sure she left the train head-first.

"Ladder out!" Deke ordered. Belying his fears, she did briefly try to grab at the window frame on the way out, but it did not last long as the ladder rungs pulled her out of the train forcibly.

"That was interesting," Boxer complained. "Never a dull day around here. Reminds me of my days beating the streets in Rampart."

"Drunk, stupid, and perverted is not a good way to run through life," McCabe said.

Car 91 (Baths, Gender-split) (1104) (Evacuated 7 Bravo Mafia)  
><span>Car 92 (Double Sleeper Car, 9 rooms) (1106) (evacuated 9 civilians)<span>  
><span>Car 93 (Baths, Gender-split) (1108) (Evacuated 4 civilians, 5 Bravo Mafia)<span>  
><span>Car 94 (House Car, 1 Level) (1110)<span>  
><span>Car 95 (Storage  Internal Freight Car) (1112)  
><span>Car 96 (Seats, 2 level) (1114)<span>  
><span>Car 97 (Seats, 2 level) (1116)<span>  
><span>Car 98 (Seats, 2 level) (1118) (Evacuated 3 Alpha Mafia, 8 Delta Mafia)<span>

"Oh God, that raunch! Holy shit, Houston, we have a problem in that car, that's for damn sure!" Deke said as he hurriedly evacuated from the 97 car into the seats of the 98 car.

"Man oh man, Hess had to pile them dead in places," Street complained. "And I know there's going to be more, which is the part that really sucks."

"If I don't have to smell two-week-old dead bodies ever again in my life, it will be far too soon still," TJ said with a gasp of breath. He had unceremoniously stuck his head out a window to get some fresh air, to which the remainder of the SWAT team followed suit quick enough.

"That bad, guys?" Alan asked as his ladder team approached the side of the 98 car.

"Yeah, it's that bad," Sanchez said.

"Psst, hey," someone above them half-whispered. The team kinda rotated around to look up at the speaker, which was a series of almost a dozen persons hanging out the windows on the level above them.

"Morning," Hondo said. "How goes?"

"Better 'n you guys are doing, I'd guess. You're the team that's clearing the train, right?" the one lady in the group asked.

"Yeah, that's us," McCabe said.

"Excellent! Where do we sign up for a job with your crew?" she asked in a rush.

"The base up above us is where it's at," Hondo said. "Aren't you guys Delta Mafia, though?"

"Pah. Delta Mafia doesn't owe me anything, and I could give a rip less about them. We're in it to avoid the slavers, not for the glory of the Mafiosi. If you guys are looking, we're available."

"You're in the right place, lady. C'mon down, we'll get you hooked up," Alan said

Car 99 (Seats, 2 Level) (1122)  
><span>Car 100 (Seats, 2 Level) (1124)<span>

"All right, guys, this is the 100th car," Hondo said as he laid eyes on the unusual defensive unit in the center of this seat car.

"Hell yes, halfway there," Deke said.

"Take a union five, grab a seat, grab some chow, we're not in a rush right now," the Sergeant ordered.

"Rest of the train ain't going nowhere, so…" Boxer sat down on one of the metro seats and splayed out. "So far, so good. This egghead Hess at least knows what he is doing, so…"

"Yeah, at least he knows how to protect what he has. And clearing these trains is a nice public service to everyone involved, so…"

"Yeah, including drunk belligerent wenches," Deke said. "This is gonna be the best story ever… that we just won't be able to tell."

"I dunno about you guys, but I've been recording this whole thing," McCabe said, tapping his safety glasses that also included a hidden camera. "Hidden camera glasses. We'll have video evidence once we get back home."

"I just hope they buy it," Street said somewhat cynically. He was still staring at the Kannazuchi Battle Armor that Hess had stumbled across on his way through, and true to expectations it was still a bloody mess on the inside.

-x-x-x-

(Elsewhere in Existence…)

(Office of the Will Transcendent)  
>(5th Floor below ground, Temple of the Executors, Luna Zero)<p>

A manila folder flopped down on the desk, closer to the two parties sitting on the business side of it than the resident side. "In any other context, this would be a rather disturbing report. Since it is you two running high-level interference, though, things are a bit different." the Will Transcendent sighed, then smiled in a surprisingly evil fashion. "And, as it happens, this is an action I wanted to happen millennia ago, but couldn't find anyone with enough of a wild hair to try. Talk to me, Hotaru," he commanded softly.

"Well, sir, I figured this was a guy that wanted to clean problems up, and Cyrene The White signed off on him, so I offered him a way to make some money and backbuild resources as he starts out," Hotaru justified her prior actions. "Additionally, he volunteered for both taskings — the Protectorate itself, and the train clearing in particular."

"Nice," the Will Transcendent said. "I've read over the dossier that Cyrene threw together on him. Have you two?"

"Already did, boss-man," Lord Tenchi said. He commanded the 4th Division of the Star League Executors, to which Cyrene Curone was assigned. "Mythical being indeed. If he's not bullshitting everyone involved, this guy may be the first actual post-WW2 American Militiaman that I've ever met."

"If he was, I would know already," Master Executor Tomoe answered curtly. "He is the real deal, and even the Federal Bureau of Investigation from his homeworld has acknowledged it in a news conference."

"So, you already know where his home is?" Lord Tenchi asked after a moment. The Will Transcendent smiled in a cynical fashion, since he knew where this was headed.

"Of course I know, understanding is my necessary duty," Hotaru replied somewhat archly.

"So why not offer him a ride home?" Tenchi asked, inadvertently stepping on the metaphoric landmine that the guy on the far side of the desk knew was waiting for him.

"Two reasons. One, Hess would refuse an extraction; he signed on for the Protectorate, he's going to run it to the hilt. And it's a very long blade that he will be forging for that sword, follow?"

"I hear that," Tenchi admitted.

"Two, my services are four orders of magnitude more expensive than the Temporal Psionics Guilds. Mainly because I have a net zero error rate and can do everything they need in one fell swoop to get people home," Hotaru concluded why Sigma One would not call upon her services to get home.

"Subtly cruel, but entirely realistic," the Will Transcendent said. "The book on this guy Hess is that he's not an overly-optimistic American, ergo he uses reason before emotion, which is a rare commodity for 21st Century Americans. I don't see him paying a billion C-bills for anything for quite a while."

"Give him some time," Hotaru said.

"How much are you offering him per train?" their CO asked.

"500 grand per train, he keeps the entire train as salvage and refugees," Hotaru said.

"Not enough," Will Transcendent Eric Atrebas said immediately. "This guy is doing a public service not only to the Star League and member states, but to countless unaffiliated planets and to the residents of the trains themselves."

"Quite true, boss-man," Lord Tenchi said.

"Master Executor Tomoe, as of right now, the bounty is 1 million per 500 cars of train cleared or fraction thereof, to be paid out of the Star League Public Safety budget, not out of the Executor's Operational Pool Fund. We have multiple findings over the millennia that these trains are a hazard to life and property, now we have an American doing the job we told the Star League they needed to do. This problem is wholly owned by the General Council, they can pay for its cleanup under my authority."

"Aye, sir, I will reallocate the bounty collection within the hour," Hotaru acknowledged immediately.

"Per reports from Cyrene The White, they have a team of Los Angeles SWAT operators moving through the 311 train, finishing the cleanout as we speak," Lord Tenchi said. "They also have a second train standing by to enter and clear, it's a longer train wholly."

"Good, results like this are a necessity," Atrebas answered with an approving nod. "Official policy henceforth: the Protectorate of Sigma receives high-level protection on this issue. They are charged with finding and eliminating all Jumper Trains henceforth, regardless of location. The bounty is only applicable to Sigma or any subcontractors they officially recognize on the matter." The latter condition was to prevent bounty scalping by less-than-tactful mercenaries or bounty hunters, and to ensure the job was done right the first time. "Questions?"

"No sir, I think Sigma will like the improved pay scale," Lord Tenchi said. "Hell, this Hess character doesn't even like taking a loan out for Protectorate finances."

"There are some people in Existence who do not worship the concept of easy money, Tenchi," Atrebas said a bit sharply. "I am in agreement with the position." The Executor-Lord grimaced, though briefly. "Get the paperwork moving. As soon as the General Council hears about this, they'll try to launch a probe up the Protectorate's national ass in an attempt to find any kind of reason to invade. I want to discourage that as quickly as possible."

"On it, sir," Master Executor Tomoe said before she blinked away to her own quarters to begin the paperwork.

"I have Cyrene on indefinite station as Executor Liaison to the Protectorate," Lord Tenchi said. "Think I should just leave her there?"

"For now, yes," Eric said. "I am thinking, though, if this formation takes off in the fashion they are making noise, we may rotate more Executors through their ranks to provide cross-training capabilities."

"Cross-training, sir?" Lord Tenchi asked for clarification.

"You know what I mean, Tenchi," his boss said bluntly. "For all the good we do, some of the Executors are not a very savvy lot, follow? I estimate roughly a quarter of Executors would be hard-pressed to identify which end of a gun is dangerous, and a quarter more than that would be unable to load, arm, and use even the most basic pistols or rifles. One of the recordings of Hess has him drop four tangos in four and a half seconds with an old Enfield bolt-action rifle. It is mildly embarrassing to have to admit that a fat-boy American Militiaman can outshoot roughly half of the most destructive operators in Existence. That is not good policy."

"You have a point," Tenchi admitted sadly. He would not admit, though, that of the listed half of Executors that were not firearms-rated, the largest percentile of their rank was in his Division. "We should plan on working a contract in for the Executors to join into the Protectorate on a rotating operations schedule for training, then?"

"They need to prove themselves, first," Atrebas provided a constraint. "In a year or two, I will audit their efforts personally, and if they are where I think they need to be, we will arrange something."

"If they survive the shitstorm they are chugging for at full speed," Tenchi answered.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Chapter Afterword<strong>:

This is just the beginning phase of the 70-David team's involvement. There will be a face-punch event in the next chapter that shall cement them at least a good run in Sigma; remember, Erich only extracted roughly half of the train residents.

Also, keep an eye on the stinger section. As much as this sounds machiavellian, Atrebas is going to use Sigma and its founder as a bludgeon to beat down the omni-destructive Hydra known as the Star League General Council. The hell of it is, given how much Hess dislikes Orwellian power structures such as the Star League, he would certainly be a willing bludgeon, or maybe a self-powering battering ram once his formation picks up size and veterancy?

Not much to say about this chapter in terms of action. It was fairly straightforward, a couple combat actions involved, though you will notice that in every run-and-gun action there was prisoners taken. This is to be expected in actions where Police are involved; the purpose of SWAT is to save lives, not take them. You will see this ethos in action as things go forward in the Rail Guard division — remember, Erich asked the 70-David team to help train the incoming personnel, and that is what shall happen.

NOTE TO READERS: the Sigma series is a deprecated production. I work on these in my spare time, when I am not working on other things, and occasionally drop a couple hours into it here and there. Don't expect these to operate on a timetable; I publish them irregularly, whenever a chapter is good to go. My mainline stories are still AAA, JW, MMC and their various offshoots.

That's it for now. **NEXT UP**: As the 70-David team finishes up the 311 train, things start happening apace with the evacuees above the railhead undercroft.

* * *

><p><strong>Review Replies<strong>:

First chapter, no reviews, no need for replies. I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK! Anything I can do to improve, I want to hear it!

* * *

><p><strong>The Gripe Sheet<strong>:

First chapter, no gripes. Much thanks to **Sieben Nightwing**, **Takeshi Yamato**, and **Necroblade**, my beta readers, for sorting this out.

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><p><strong>Footnotes<strong>:

(1): **D Platoon** is the official designation of the Los Angeles SWAT teams. Each SWAT element (4 to 6 personnel across 10 Elements) is commanded by a Sergeant, who answers to a Lieutenant and thereafter to a senior Captain.

* * *

><p><strong>Included Works<strong>:

—IRL Weapons: The entire arsenal of the 70-David team is off-the-shelf real world weapons: G36 rifles, Benelli M1, UMP45, Springfield Armory Tactical Operator 1911. Also included are Flashbang grenades and CS gas canisters, though the CS is only threatened so far, not used. Additionally, so far the extant arsenal on the far side of the shooting matches has been IRL vintage, but that may change as of next chapter.

—SWAT (2003 movie): The main 70-David unit is from this movie. Headed up by Sergeant Dan "Hondo" Harrelson (played by Samuel L. Jackson in the movie), it comprises a six-man element.

—Personal Works: the Dragon Scale Five body armor shown here is a derivation of an experimental armor system called Dragon Scale that was produced during the Iraq War cycle for the US DOD. This version is a bit upgraded, but functionally similar.


End file.
